


Of Sun, Roses and Thorns

by Chocolate25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Almost), Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, From Harry’s POV, Harry is still working against him, Harry revives Tom Riddle, Harry thinks its a good idea, Horcuxes, M/M, Sane Tom Riddle, Spoiler: it’s not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolate25/pseuds/Chocolate25
Summary: Convinced that the creation of his horcuxes  are the reason of Riddle’s insanity, Harry plan on reviving him with all of his sanity back.It was logical, after all: he could then literally be in the inside of Voldemort’s mind.However, he was wrong.Tom Riddle had been broken far before this.And now, now Harry gave him back his bright mind.« He had a sort of timeless beauty, like a rose caught in full bloom, frozen for the rest of eternity.But even if a rose is beautiful, one must not forget its thorns, caught in the mesmerising sight.Taking a shuddering breath, Harry faced the Devil wearing the face of an Angel. »
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya !  
> I am just here here to leave a little warning: I am french, and as such not a native: my English is not perfect, I am still improving it every day. If you see a mistake, do not hesitate to point it out !

Harry stood there, blinking owlishly at the man in front of him, disbelief and shame and despair raging in his heart- how had he been so naïve ?

It had been months now, going all around the country to try and find the parts of his soul, and it had been hard. Harry was alone and everyone was chasing him, sure to be rewarded if they brought him to the Dark Lord.  
Harry now had far more ennemies than allies, living in fear under the reign of the one man he had failed to eliminate.  
But... the green eyed man held to one last hope: the thought that assembling the horcruxes back together to form a more complete soul of Riddle would give him back his sanity.  
And after that, it would be far easier: how would he fail this time when he would have on his side someone that could literally be in the inside of Voldemort’s mind ?  
And after all it was logical, breaking his soul had to be the origin of all of his madness: the horcruxes had not only taken his appearance from him but also his sanity.  
Riddle had been so bright. From what he had learnt and saw in the pensieve, Riddle had been a genius.  
When did his smartness transformed into madness ?  
But even if he fell, the Sun had to rise.  
And Riddle was the Sun, even if Harry was reluctant to admit it: Riddle was the one that shone the brightest, gifting his light to those around him.  
You couldn’t enter a room he was in and not notice him, even if he didn’t make his presence known you had to know he was there, somewhere near you, his presence constantly reminded, nagging at the back of your mind, be it by goosebumps or this strange feeling that had you acknowledging him.  
But the Sun disappeared, sinking into the sea, and if you have already seen a sunset, you know the colour the sea takes, sometimes: a scarlet red, so similar to blood.  
Even the brightest star sank, in a trail of blood, its greatness tainted as it disappeared.  
He had so much power.  
So much raw potential.  
But Riddle wasted it all.  
Nothing was left behind except darkness.  
But the Sun has to rise, doesn’t he?  
Harry would be the one to bring the Sunrise, of a Sun named Tom Marvolo Riddle.  
And this being done, he could take Voldemort down. After all Riddle wouldn’t accept being only a substitute, a copy, right ? He would think himself as worthier, and then help him in his quest.  
Harry would have to kill him in the end, but wasn’t it what was announced in the prophecy ?

But how wrong had he been.  
Harry thought that breaking his soul in seven pieces was what made him Voldemort, the insane Dark Lord.  
Harry should have known, after all he met the Diary, which contained his teenage memories and Riddle had already created his Dark Lord persona. Even if charming, he couldn’t quite hide the shadows behind his dark blue eyes.  
People didn’t change that easily, and Harry’s hopes were soon crushed.  
The horcruxes weren’t the root of the problem, it was all those years spent at an orphanage hated by his peers and caretakers. Just like him he had been the freak, the spawn of the devil. Unworthy of affection, of love.  
He had been alone in a world that hated him, where he was considered as nothing but a burden, told by people that hurt him and abandoned him that he was the freak, the broken one, the monster.  
How could he not become one ?  
Harry had been blinded by hope, something that was one of his greatest quality was now the cause of his demise.  
As Harry stood in front of a smiling Tom Riddle -or was it Voldemort?- he knew that he had already been broken far before the creation of his horcruxes, and he realised with horror that the only thing he had done was giving him back his bright mind.  
Harry gave him back the only thing that made sure he wasn’t killed until now.  
Riddle’s skin was fair, his dark-brown hair falling in a smooth wave on his forehead, his lips were full and his cheekbones were high, an undeniable proof of the aristocratic blood flowing in his veins. But what was the most striking were his eyes.  
Gone was the dark blue of the Chamber of Secret.  
It wasn’t deep blood-red as before either. It was a captivating bright blue, and the blood was hidden behind his thick eyelashes, only shining when the light hit at the right angle.  
Giving a false sens of security, giving him back all the power of a hunter.  
Gone was the mindless insanity, yes, but what was left behind was the cold-blooded sociopathy.  
Looking at him straight in the eyes, intertwining green and blue, Harry disturbingly realised that if Riddle was the hunter, then he was the prey.  
A shiver ran down Harry’s spine, and he swallowed quite loudly.  
Riddle was still observing his surroundings, a cave. The air was saturated in humidity, the walls and floor stone-hard and cold. You could faintly hear the sound of the rain, beating the earth not too far up, almost lulling Harry by its calm and even rhythm if it wasn’t for the fact that he was now facing his arch-nemesis.  
Harry’s heart was beating erratically, its pounding echoing inside his head, and for a moment he was sure that Riddle could hear it too.  
Slowly, ever so smoothly, the Dark Lord got up.  
Riddle’s figure was lithe, as he got up, and Harry only realised he had been staring when the other man raised an elegant eyebrow at him.  
He had a sort of timeless beauty, like a rose caught in full bloom, frozen for the rest of eternity.  
But even if a rose is beautiful, one mustn’t forget its thorns, caught in the mesmerising sight.  
Taking a shuddering breath, Harry faced the Devil wearing the face of an Angel.


	2. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom took a closer look at the stranger. The curiosity he had felt at first slowly disappearing to let wariness takes place, surging at the sole sight of him.  
> Everything felt like a dream, but Voldemort didn’t sleep, not since he created his second horcrux.  
> However... he felt his dark brown hair brushing lightly against his pale skin. His skin was pale, yes, but not of this unnatural white it usually was... had been...? It both felt familiar and wrong, a part of him used to it and the other screeching at the wrongness of everything.  
> He felt... shattered, multiple parts of him fighting, memories fresh and old, creating bitterness and indifference, expressing logic and utter madness, clashing within him.  
> Within is heart.  
> Where he was sure there shouldn’t be any feelings left, there was.

He felt... dizzy.  
It was the first thought that came to mind, after what seems like waking up from a deep slumber, a throbbing headache behind his eyelids.

Tom took a handful of seconds to make sure that he was stable, and then opened his eyes to look around.  
He was in a cave, with stony walls and heavy humidity saturating the air. But... why would he be in a cave ? Last thing he remembered he was seeing the corpse of Myrtle at Hogwa— no, it was Hepzibah Smith’s one. Or was it the one of the old homeless muggle ? But there was also the one of his father -and that sole thought made hate and contempt rage in him-.

But it wasn’t quite right either.  
Suddenly, the word seemed to stop spinning for a moment, when his eyes found the ones of a raven-haired man, with eyes akin to emerald hidden behind ugly glasses. Who... was he ? He felt familiar, somehow, and possessiveness suddenly flared in him. Tom didn’t know who he was, nor where he was, but he for sure knew that the man in front of him was his.

He raised an eyebrow at the stare of the other. Did he knew him ? Was he interested in him ?  
Slowly, a smile worthy of the cat of Cheshire bloomed on his lips.  
Yes, he was his, and he was going to answer to all of the question he had, willingly or not.  
Slowly, he got up.

The other man now looked like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes blown wide, a whirlwind of emotions flashing in them.  
Tom steadied himself and walked in what he was sure was a dignified manner toward the stranger, wariness and possessiveness opposing in a fierce battle inside of him.

He could feel his magic and its familiar pulse at his fingertips in the lack of a wand, ready to protect himself if any danger was to come.  
Without even fully noticing what he was doing, Tom had brought his hand close to the man’s forehead, and to a scar that oddly resembled the Viking rune of three names: Sowulo, Sowilo or Sigil.  
For having studied Ancient Runes out of boredom, Tom remembered its signification: it represented the Sun.  
It represented the Illumination, the understanding of the Mysteries and the full awareness, as well as wholeness, and victory of the Light over the Dark.  
He tilted the raven haired man’s head -he had caught his jaw between his long thin fingers- to have a better access to the curious scar, brushing lightly his fingers against it, getting a startled intake of breath from the green-eyed man.

He could feel a power, similar to magic, flooding trough his hands and spreading to his whole body, electrifying by it’s potency. But Tom knew it wasn’t only that, it ran deeper.  
Far deeper.  
He felt it in the depth of what was left of his soul.

Suddenly, he felt his grip loosening as the other man extracted himself from his grasp, shallow breath and red-dusted cheeks looking straight back at him.  
Once again, Tom smiled. Of this infuriating smile of his that screamed superiority and whispered of greater knowledge and secrets.

The moment was brief, as the man suddenly seemed to become aware of his behaviour and steeled himself.  
Any lingering feelings in his eyes and face disappeared to let confidence and determination shine through.  
Tom observed the change with curiosity.  
So this was it ? A quick reaction, a mask hastily put, worthy of a pureblood.  
Worthy of a warrior, if the scars on his hands and arms were to be trusted.

Tom tried to let his eyes wander off the stranger, to focus on his surroundings, but when he did so, dizziness immediately started kicking in and he felt like passing out.  
The effects were magically induced, Tom was sure of it.  
The stranger’s calming effects on his mind weren’t natural.  
Was it the result of a contract ? Of a potion ? Of a spell ?  
He couldn’t say, his brain all muddy and memories flashing and disappearing behind his eyelids when he so much as dared to close his eyes. 

Tom took a closer look at the stranger. The curiosity he had felt at first slowly disappearing to let wariness takes place, surging at the sole sight of him.  
Everything felt like a dream, but Voldemort didn’t sleep, not since he created his second horcuxe.  
However... he felt his dark brown hair brushing lightly against his pale skin. His skin was pale, yes, but not of this unnatural white it usually was... had been...? It both felt familiar and wrong, a part of him used to it and the other screeching at the wrongness of everything.  
He felt... shattered, multiple parts of him fighting, memories fresh and old, creating bitterness and indifference, expressing logic and utter madness, clashing within him.  
Within is heart.  
Where he was sure there shouldn’t be any feelings left there was.

He was to erase all feelings, to become a greater force, a Dark Lord, feared by all, holding the world within the palm of his hand, changing it for the betterment.

He was to aim for greatness, to prove his worth, as the Heir of Slytherin, he was to make them all regret treating him like they did, he was to find the secrets of his upbringing, about his father.

He was to form a court, to slowly cultivate his relations, to meet pure-bloods and make them join his ranks, to rally them to his cause, to have them become his agents to infiltrate the ministry, to change everything from the inside, to take control of the wizengamot and become the ruler of Great Britain.

He was to make them all suffer, to tear the world apart, to become once for all immortal, he was to reign by fear, he was to shed blood, he was to take control of everything, he was to make himself superior to mere mortals, he was to exerce his power, to exploit the fear the sole whisper of his name created, as shivers ran down everyone’s spine.  
He craved their fear  
To sow obedience, ripe death and chaos was his ultimate goal.

(But... was it really all he was aiming for ?  
He had power.  
Purebloods bowed before him, he provoked fear within each and every hearts, he was in the ranks of the ministry, poisoning it from the inside.  
But in what aim was he looking for power ?  
What was his ultimate goal ? To prove himself worthy ? To make them suffer ? To exterminate all the mudbloods ? To reform the ministry ? To rule the magical world ? To become immortal ?  
He didn’t remember.  
What was it that he was looking for, what was the goal he had lost in the shattering of his soul ?  
There had to be something more than blind power-crazy madness.  
Something forgotten.)

Before he could even begin to open his mouth to talk, he felt all of his strength leaving him, falling to his knees with his fading consciousness screaming at him not to let anyone see him in a moment of weakness. That those shouldn’t even exist.  
But the next thing he knew was darkness and the dark-haired man running and catching him before his head hit the floor.

What a way to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone !  
> Thank you for reading !  
> This was originally made to be an OS, but after thinking about it I think that I could make it a multi chapters fic.  
> What do you think ? It will depends on whether or not people like it, as writing is not my greatest passion.  
> Anyway, don’t hesitate to leave a review!  
> One review = One Happy Author


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